


every illusion in between

by dragonmage27



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-01 14:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmage27/pseuds/dragonmage27
Summary: Laurent stormed down the corridor, a hard look on his face that sent servants leaping out of his way, and did not give the guards enough time to bow respectfully. He reached the door to their bedchambers where Pallas stood guard outside.The young captain had a strange look upon his face when he saw Laurent. “Your majesty, perhaps you should not go in yet. Exalted is still recovering.”“And who do you think would be best to see him?” Laurent narrowed his eyes. “My husband has been in an accident. Step aside.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Josselin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/gifts).



> Thank you [Elle](http://liesmyth.tumblr.com/) for being an amazing beta :) Couldn't have kept writing without your constant reassurance! Go read her amazing fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/pseuds/l_cloudy)!

Laurent stormed down the corridor, a hard look on his face that sent servants leaping out of his way, and did not give the guards enough time to bow respectfully. He reached the door to their bedchambers where Pallas stood guard outside. 

The young captain had a strange look upon his face when he saw Laurent. “Your majesty, perhaps you should not go in yet. Exalted is still recovering.” 

“And who do you think would be best to see him?” Laurent narrowed his eyes. “My husband has been in an accident. Step aside.” 

Laurent had been with the Veretian Council when the messenger arrived with urgent news. It had been another pointless meeting about the future of their unification, the problem of their lack of  heir, how Laurent wasn’t thinking thinking about the future of his kingdom. Laurent had dismissed the council immediately--ignoring the look of indignation from Malaury, and the concerned ones from Herode. 

Damen regularly rode out in the mornings, surveying the soldiers practicing in the fields outside the palace, or to clear his head before they convened in the throne room for the afternoon’s counsel. But he had been found near the rivers on the west side.

That fool. 

Once a month, Damen liked to ride out west, closer to the river where large fields of wildflowers grew. He said it was to keep their romance alive, and would return with a handpicked bouquet. I wish to braid them in your hair, Damen had said. 

He had warned him that the fields had snakes which no doubt had spooked his horse. That romantic, idiotic  _ fool _ . 

Laurent pushed the door open, and walked in, the rush of medicinal incense assaulting his senses. Nikandros was by the door, trying to say something, but Laurent brushed past him to reach Damen. He sat down on the bed and asked, urgently, “How are you?” 

Damen looked well. Except for the minor abrasion by his temple, it was almost as if he had no injury at all. He sat up on the bed, amidst the large collection of pillows that was more for Laurent’s luxury than his own minimalist Akielon preference. His eyes were focused on Laurent, but it lacked something Laurent could not pinpoint, and something made him wary the longer Damen ignored his question, instead choosing to roam his eyes on Laurent’s body. 

Laurent reached out a hand to feel his head, perhaps he had a fever. 

Suddenly Damen let out a laugh and said, addressing his kyros, “You’ve outdone yourself, Nikandros. Your slave is beautiful.” 

Laurent froze, his hand halfway between their bodies. Damen took hold of his hand, smoothing his thumb over Laurent’s palm. His grasp, although gentle, lacked the warmth that Laurent was familiar with. 

“You have calluses. Did they not take care of you properly in the training gardens?” Laurent didn’t move as Damen brushed his lips up his arm, pulling him closer. “You should join my household. Has Nikandros had your First Night yet?” 

Nikandros made a small noise behind him, which jolted Laurent back to the present. Something was wrong. This was not--”Damen?” 

He gave a chiding look. “You should address me as Exalted. I am your crown prince.” 

Laurent swallowed, hard. He got up abruptly, tugging his hand back from Damen. He turned to face the door. He couldn’t look at Damen, not when he looked back at him without recognition in his eyes. “Nikandros, come with me,” he said as he stormed out of the room. 

The door swung shut behind them and Laurent breathed to keep his temper in control. “What happened?” He gazed upon Nikandros with undue suspicion. He knew it was not fair to punish him, but the green-eyed part of him was upset that Damen has welcomed Nikandros warmly, and not him. 

“Pallas, fetch the physician,” Nikandros ordered, sending him away. Pallas obeyed quickly, eager to escape and not be caught in this crossfire. 

“What happened?” Laurent repeated impatiently. 

Nikandros sighed, and rubbed a palm against his forehead. “Damen thinks he’s still...before. He’s been asking for King Theomedes, and Kastor.” Nikandros spat the name out, his clear distaste for the bastard still lingering. Laurent wondered if that was how Nikandros talked of him to Damen when he was not in the room. 

“But healthwise?”

“Besides the memories, King Damianos is in good health.” Paschal bowed when he walked up to Laurent and Nikandros. “He tried to swipe my hat when he first woke. No physical injuries that I have noted.” Paschal readjusted his physician’s hat as if it was humorous. “I suspect he injured his head when he fell from his horse. It may have lead to his lapse in memory. I have seen this happen before.” 

“How do they recover their memories?” Laurent did not attempt to cover up the desperation in his voice. 

“Most of them do with time. It is best that we let him rest. He may recover his memories naturally, but we can also introduce and remind him of familiar places and people, which may trigger his memories.” 

“I see. Please continue looking after him,” Laurent said, and Paschal bowed deeply. Turning to Nikandros, he asked. “What have you told Damen so far?”

“Only that he is currently residing in Delpha and there was a minor accident with his horse. He knows that I am the kyros, and believes we are in my estate.” Nikandros looked restless, no doubt eager to return inside.

With Damen in his current state, he could not appear at court. Laurent rubbed two fingers at his temples. “You are not to let word out that Damen has been injured. Not the kyroi, nobody. I will speak to him...tomorrow. Try not to raise his attention today. Tell him--something.” Perhaps Damen would have recovered his memories by the morning and Laurent could put this behind as some nightmare. 

Nikandros nodded at his commands, and then hesitated. He said, “I told him these were the Exalted’s rooms.” 

A heavy stone dropped in Laurent’s stomach as he understood what Nikandros meant. To Damen currently, these were not the rooms he shared with Laurent. “I will sleep in the East Wing tonight. Have someone prepare it for me. I’m going for a ride. If there are any changes, send a rider after me  _ immediately. _ ” 

Laurent turned and walked away, ignoring the looks of sympathy from his physician and his kyros. He couldn’t see, but could still hear the heavy slam of the door as Nikandros returned inside to Damen. 

When Laurent arrived at the stables, the horsemaster immediately began preparing his horse for his ride. Laurent decided it was best to take a look at Agema, Damen’s stallion who must have taken quite a spook to throw Damen off. 

Indeed, Agema was covered in a thin sheet of sweat. The stablehand must have had difficulty calming him down to not yet groom him. “Here boy,” Laurent murmured, reaching for an apple from the basket the horsemaster kept nearby. 

Agema snorted, breathing heavily, and knocked Laurent’s hand away, the apple falling onto the floor with a thump. Laurent reached out to calm him, but the stallion just backed away. 

“Sorry, your majesty. Your horse is ready to ride.” The horsemaster came over. “This one can have quite a temper. He’s been upset since the ride with King Damianos. We’ve been having difficulty calming him down.”

Laurent looked at Agema forlornly. It seemed as if Damen’s horse did not recognize him either. 

-

The following morning, Nikandros presented Laurent to Damen properly. 

“Damen, there’s someone here to see you.”

Laurent could hear them speak through the ajar door. 

“Is it more Veretians sending gifts? Have they always sent gifts to the kyros of Delpha? Regardless, I do not care for it. Bring me the yellow-haired slave from yesterday.” Damen’s voice was deep and rich, and Laurent never realized the warmth it brought him until the words registered like a splash of ice water. 

This Damen was the one who still embraced slavery, believing that slaves were to bend at his every whim. This Damen was not the one who had signed the decree banishing slavery, and worked with him to hunt down the treasonous slave traders. This was not his Damen. 

Laurent steeled himself, and walked in with his head held high. He would not let Damen’s behavior reflect disappointment on his face. Damen was lounging by the window seat overlooking the palace grounds, his knee pulled up to his chest. He looked beautiful with the cool breeze tousling his curls, his eyes closed, making his strong jaw softer. 

There was an assortment of opened gifts laid on before him. Laurent noticed a jar of Isthima honey with the family crest of Councilor Malaury, and an assortment of Damen’s favorite cheeses from Councilor Chelaut. Although word of Damen’s illness had not yet reached the kyroi, it appears that the secret was harder to keep from his own councilors. 

“Damen. This is King Laurent of Vere.” 

Damen opened his eyes and took in Laurent, drinking in his figure not unlike yesterday. “Oh,” he said bemused. “The King of Vere. I didn’t realize the younger prince was of age to inherit. You look of age. Your brother was a good fighter.” 

“He was the best.” Laurent tried to keep his face straight.

“And yet he was bested,” Damen said flippantly. “That is how we won back Delpha, or have you forgotten that you stand on Akielon land now?” 

Nikandros stood on the side, uncomfortable. One was his king and childhood friend, someone he would die for. The other, also his king, but solely because of Damen, and now that Damen did not exist. Laurent wondered, if it came down to it, where would Nikandros’s loyalty lie? To Kingdom, or friend?

“Have I forgotten the fact that you killed my brother? No.” Laurent breathed slowly to calm himself. This was the Damianos he had envisioned for years, the man who had slayed Auguste on the battlefield, the monster of Akielos who brought forth every nightmare. Laurent was reminded of being back in Arles, living in the viper pit, confronted every day by people who wanted to break him. If Damen thought he would be intimidated by his posturing, he was wrong. 

“Why are you here then?” Damen was amused. He had yet to realize that he was sitting in a room of equal Akielon and Veretian design. He thought Laurent was a monarch, come to pay tribute to Akielos. 

Laurent would break those perceptions. “You don’t remember,  _ Damen _ . But I am your husband.” 

Damen scoffed, and then he said, with surprising anger, “You  _ lie _ .” 

“You don’t wonder why your kyros lets me wander about as if I own this palace? It’s because I do. He lives at my behest, he stays at my behest, isn’t that so, Nikandros?” 

Damen turned to Nikandros, expecting him to object, but Nikandros looked at Damen and said, “Damen...it has been years since the Battle of Marlas. Vere and Akielos are united.” 

“ _ How? _ ” 

“By our marriage,” Laurent said impatiently. “Keep up.” 

Damen stood up, and Laurent was keenly reminded of their difference in stature. Whereas his Damen took care to not use his height as a threat, this Damen was doing so actively. Damen towered over Laurent, his wide build dwarfing him, as his anger spilled out. “What have you done, you Veretian  _ snake _ . I would never agree to this marriage.” 

“Agree? We’ve already consummated.” 

Damen slid his eyes over Laurent once more, “You do look like a good fuck.”

“That’s what the Council thought too. But turns out you take it pretty well. Moaned so pretty. You out-performed yourself at the Viewing Ceremony.” Damen paled. There had been no such ceremony, but Damen didn’t know that. Nikandros was too horrified at this moment to correct him regardless. He was on the Council now. 

“Where is my Father?” Damen addressed Nikandros. “I must speak to him.” 

“He is dead,” Laurent answered. He should have more sympathy. “So is Kastor.” That didn’t help. 

“Nikandros, is this  _ true _ ?” There was horror in Damen’s voice that stabbed at Laurent’s chest. 

Of course, Damen would not trust the words of a Veretian. 

Nikandros stepped closer, his voice placating. “Damen, a lot has happened that you do not recall. Kastor committed treason. He conspired with the Regent of Vere and poisoned King Theomedes.” Nikandros sent a look to Laurent, wordlessly asking if he should inform Damen he was sent to Vere as a slave,  _ his  _ slave. 

Damen stumbled back. “My father...” He looked at Laurent again, and narrowed his eyes. “Never trust a Veretian,” he murmured, as if echoing a memory. “What have you  _ done _ ?” 

“You killed my brother. Your brother killed your father, I killed your brother and now we’re married. Long live unification.” This Damen was unearthing the worse sides of Laurent. From the look of fury on Nikandros’s face, he could have handled this better. 

Damen took one threatening step towards Laurent, and everything faded away. He was no longer the King of Vere, but a boy staring across at a man who took everything away from him. Damianos was just as large and powerful and untouchable, and Laurent unthinkingly took a step back. 

“ _ Guards _ !” 

Laurent couldn’t tell who made the call, but soldiers swarmed in, surrounding them. Pallas with his captain’s badge, and Jord with his Veretian armor. It was a mix of both sides, the result of their unity now brought to a standstill. 

Damen looked directly at his soldiers, “What are you doing? Seize this Veretian snake!” 

The soldiers hesitated--it was Gaios who had thrown down his sword after Laurent bested him on the rare morning he joined them in practice, and Timon who had accepted a winning laurel from him during the last Games. Laurent was Veretian, but he was their king. 

When the guards made no move to seize Laurent, Damen took it into his own hands. He reached for the sword of the nearest soldier, and almost succeeded in drawing it--except Nikandros stopped him. He pushed the sword back into his sheath. 

Damen reacted instantly to the attack, taking up his other arm to move against Nikandros, but the kyros held his own, bodily standing before Laurent, and holding Damen back. 

Laurent took another step back, looking into the enraged eyes of Damen who was glaring at him, struggling against his friend’s hold. Laurent raised his voice, “The King is unwell. Keep him inside.”

Laurent stepped out, and leaned against the door, resting his head against the wood. He could hear the commotion as the soldiers obeyed. He hoped that Damen would subconsciously recognize these familiar faces, because if he truly chose to fight, no one in that room could win against him. 

Laurent kept his eyes closed, but he could not get rid of the image burning behind his eyes, of Damen glaring at him with anger and confusion. He knew he should not blame Damen for the things he said, not when he had the memories of  the man before they had marched south with their armies, before they put the cuffs on their wrists. He should have handled it better, but it was always Damen who put out his flames, and now he was fanning it. Damen with his determined eyes who announced before all of their kyroi that he would wed no other, and that the only future for Akielos was one where it was united with Vere. 

Somehow, Laurent would have to reconcile the man he loved, with the one standing behind the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reblog on [tumblr](http://dragonmage27.tumblr.com/post/174313502708/every-illusion-in-between-part-i)!


	2. part ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I managed to convince Damen that you improve with time,” Nikandros said, looking as if he had the misfortune of swallowing a particularly sour grape.
> 
> “How did you ever manage that?” Laurent was amused. No one has ever said that of him.
> 
> “With great difficulty,” Nikandros said flatly.

Nikandros joined Laurent as he finished his lunch. It had been strange eating alone, and looking out of the balcony that didn’t face the gardens. Just as strange as it had been sleeping without Damen’s warm body beside him. 

Laurent gestured for Nikandros to walk with him towards the stables, and Nikandros kept pace as he gave his report. Damen had not taken the morning encounter well, and Nikandros informed that they eventually vacated the room when Damen dismissed them after complaining of a headache. As he made no efforts to leave his room, they kept guard outside. 

“I managed to convince Damen that you improve with time,” Nikandros said, looking as if he had the misfortune of swallowing a particularly sour grape. 

“How did you ever manage that?” Laurent was amused. No one has ever said that of him. 

“With great difficulty,” Nikandros said flatly. 

Nikandros looked up at the palace, perhaps to see if Damen was climbing out of his balcony on a rope of tied sheets. No, he wouldn’t. That would have been Laurent’s idea, and Damen would frown at the idea until he eventually agreed and then regret it because he underestimated his own weight. 

Nikandros continued talking, “I promised him that we’d spar this afternoon to get out some of that energy. I anticipate he will look forward to beating me into the dirt. Damen has accepted that years has passed, even if he cannot remember.” 

Laurent felt a chill sweep over him. He did not know if Damen had yet to see his reflection and take in the mess of scars marring his back. He could not ask Nikandros this. He imagined Damen’s horror at the realization that such an atrocity had befelt him, a near brush with death that he could not recall. 

Laurent took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said. “For stopping the blade.” Laurent had fought Damen many times. On the sparring field, in drunken tussles, and whenever the anger of their past got the better of them. But every time Damen had thrown Laurent into the dirt, or tipped his blade at Laurent’s throat, there had not been a single moment when Laurent had feared that Damen would lose control. But now, Damen was unpredictable, and the lesson learned from every single one of their fights was that no matter how much Laurent tried, he would not have won. 

“I didn’t protect you because I care for you,” Nikandros said. “If I hadn’t, Damen will cut me down himself when he remembers and realizes I did not stop him. Believe me, I would have gladly let him do it.” 

Laurent tilted his head and graciously did not expose Nikandros’s lie. “Regardless, I…” Laurent struggled to get the words out. “Appreciate you being there for Damen. I am glad he has a familiar face at this time.” 

Nikandros grimaced. “Your words will be a comfort when I nurse my wounds this evening.” 

They arrived at the stables, where a commotion was happening. More than the usual number of servants and stablehands were running around, some not even noticing that their King and Kyros had arrived. 

The horsemaster greeted them with nervousness. He was wringing his grayed hat in his hands. “Your majesty. I was just about to send a runner up to the palace. King Damianos’s horse. He was agitated and with fever this morning--” He hesitated, darting his eyes from Nikandros, and then back to Laurent. “We lost him an hour ago.” 

Laurent sucked in a breath. “Let me see,” Laurent said briskly. He needed to see. His own horse--the gift from Damianos--was also from these stables. He had ridden out endless times with Agema alongside him, even occasionally riding him himself. 

He walked into the stalls with Nikandros following after him. The smell of horse and hay was strong, and he did not like the way the other horses in the stable whinnied. In the largest stall was Agema, on the ground unmoving. Laurent kneeled beside him. He touched him, the large stallion was still under his hand, body still warm, and his coat damp with sweat. 

Laurent swallowed, hard. “Do we know the cause of death?” 

“It may have been the fright, your majesty. Agema is not the youngest horse.” 

Damianos was gone, and when--if--he recovered his memories, he would be distraught to know that his steed had succumbed to illness. “Find out what you can. And give him a proper burial,” he ordered, before he got up from his knees. He didn’t bother to brush the hay now staining his trousers.

Laurent was in no mood to ride now. Perhaps it would have been better to be alone with his thoughts, but Nikandros followed him back up that winding road to the palace. Did he think he needed company? Laurent had survived even greater losses in the past, with a far greater enemy lurking in the shadows waiting for him to fail. Here at least he had the illusion of Damen supporting him, even if Damen would only accept Nikandros’s company. 

Nikandros stayed silent for most of their walk, until he began to speak. “That stallion was born here in Delpha. My own steed was its brother."

Laurent did not know why Nikandros was telling him this. Was he seeking conversation because he thought Laurent needed comforting? But his words only made Laurent more incensed. “I do not need more reminders that Damianos was yours first,” Laurent snapped at him bitterly. 

Nikandros paused in his step, and apologized, “That was not my intent, your majesty.” He offered no other excuses, and resumed his walking. They continued in silence. 

Laurent felt a flash of regret. It was cruel to lash out at Nikandros who was struggling to maintain a peace between his kings while Damen was in this state. It was not his fault that Damen showed no signs of recovering his memories. 

They had given him ample time to rest, Laurent thought bitterly. What if he never remembered? Laurent suppressed all the crippling thoughts that would follow after. He would not tear himself apart over a matter that might not happen. What had Paschal said that would assist in recovering his memories? Seeing Laurent had not awoken Damen’s memories, only his ire. 

Damen had looked at him not with uninterested eyes, but those of a fleeting lust, rather than the love and warmth Laurent had grown used to. Those were the eyes of a prince who had everything he ever wanted, and his attention fleeted from one bright thing to the next. Laurent longed for those eyes to only focus on him, and force Damen to remember him. 

To have Damen look down at Laurent, and only see his features. Laurent suppressed a flush that arose at the thought of how Damen had greeted him that morning in bed, braced on top, kissing him awake, so Laurent opened his eyes to only his visage in the morning light. 

If Laurent could get Damen on top of him, and have Damen  _ remember _ all the times they found themselves in that same position. But how without him making suspect that he had another plot. Perhaps if Damen still thought of him as Nikandros’s slave, but now Damen was determined Laurent had an ulterior motive. He would sooner kill him than lay with him. 

That’s an idea. 

“Nikandros, inform Damen that he will spar with me this afternoon.” 

It took a moment for Nikandros to register his command and respond with, “He might just kill you. I am not  _ that _ good at persuasion.” 

“He can try. Perhaps our fight might awaken some memories.” Laurent said. “I once put a blade in his hands and held it against myself. He didn’t kill me then. I trust that he won’t now.” 

Nikandros was staring at him, his dark eyes steady. “You are more trusting than I thought.” 

Laurent looked back at him unflinching. “Not really.” 

Damen was ever the only exception.

 

-

 

There was a fair amount of men stationed around the practice hall for a simple spar because it was not a secret amongst the inner circle that knew of Damen’s lapse in memory. Perhaps the King’s Guard really thought that Damen would kill Laurent. A misplaced step, a deceptively angled blade, it wouldn’t be difficult even if the practice swords were purposely dulled. But Laurent scoffed at that idea. Young Damen was an arrogant and thoughtless, but the core of his character was his honor. And that would never leave him on the battlefield. 

Laurent faced Damen with a blade in his hand, with his usual casual flair. It was always better to have the enemy underestimate you. This Damen had never seen him fight, had no idea of Laurent’s penchant for tricks. Laurent knew what Damen saw, a slender, pale young man who looked more suited for the library than the dusty practice ring. He would not be wrong. But this was not the first time he surprised Damen with his blade, and he would do it again. 

Damen stood across from him, a blade of his own, standing in the classic Akielon opening stance. Damen had no idea the numerous times that Laurent had faced him; Laurent knew all of his swordplays and worked hours to counter each one. He didn’t know that Laurent would pull daggers and throw sand if it won him victory. His dishonorable tricks were something Damen used to despise but learned to playfully combat, occasionally even throwing in an uncharacteristic shove to surprise Laurent. 

“Smiling already?” Damen said. “I’m not that easy to defeat.” Despite being at the disadvantage from not having any experience against fighting him, Damen had the confidence of a winner. He stepped forward and took the first swing. 

Laurent tightened his grip over his sword and brought it to his side, blocking Damen’s blow. Damen had a habit of using that swing on the opponent’s weak side first, to test his opponent’s strength and speed. It was a good strategy, but predictable to an observant adversary. Laurent had always meant to tell him but it was nice to have the upperhand. 

Laurent took a half step back and pulled away, sliding his sword against the steel blade to break free. “No, but you’re easy to read,” Laurent said, the smile still on his lips. 

They continued parrying, blocking each other’s sword with a swift counter before taking their own swing. They fell into an easy rhythm because Laurent knows this dance, and he could coordinate each step to match Damen. Their swords struck in midair, singing the song of steel before disconnecting again. 

Laurent noticed, as they both fell back and circled each other, that he was smiling. This was reminiscent of their usual practice sessions, familiar swordwork and parries that made his muscles tremble against Damen’s strength. It was an equal match. Damen would exert himself from Laurent’s speed, unused to the swiftness of his blade that offered less power, but more complex maneuvering. 

“You’re not half-bad,” Damen said after they continued trading blows for long minutes. From any other man that would’ve been said reluctantly, but Damen appreciated a good fighter, and Laurent knew his opinion of him as a weak, inexperienced fighter was changing. 

“You’re getting old,” Laurent taunted. “You’re slowing down. Can’t catch your breath?” 

It was time to up the game. In a burst of speed, Laurent took the offensive, aiming straight for the slight opening. True to his abilities, Damen blocked it, and Laurent didn’t pull away this time. Their blades slid until they were locked at the hilt. In a struggle for strength, Laurent would never win, but Damen had also no idea what to expect from a fight with Laurent. 

Laurent stamped his foot onto Damen’s open-toes. Damen jerked in pain, releasing his grip on his sword, an opening just fast enough for Laurent to twist his wrist and pull the locked blades  _ down,  _ Damen’s sword slipping out of his hand and falling onto the ground with a loud clatter. 

Damen stumbled away, his eyes narrowed. “You cheat,” he said accusingly. 

“Yes,” Laurent agreed. “I’m Veretian.”

Before Damen could gather his bearings, Laurent tossed his sword aside, and leaped at him. Throwing his full weight at Damen, and kicking away his footing, they both landed on the ground. Immediately Damen began to wrestle against him, his hands on his waist, another on his shoulder trying to throw him off. It was a familiar beginner Akielon move that Laurent had learned how to counter early on. 

“You know Akielon wrestling,” Damen said, a bit of wonder in his voice when they were locked in an embrace, not grappling, but anticipating the next move. He was breathing heavily now and it pleased Laurent to hear that he could make him pant. “We usually do this in the nude,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of desire. 

“Yes, we’ve done that before. Never with a crowd though. Do you want to?” Laurent said, then brushed his thumb across Damen’s collarbones suggestively. 

The reminder that they were in the public eye made Damen recoil, his grip slipping, and Laurent took the opportunity to throw Damen completely onto his back, his legs bracing Damen’s sides, sitting on top. Damen’s chest of heaving beneath him. 

“As always, not too difficult to get you on your back,” Laurent announced, raising his voice so it could be heard around the room.

Damen’s face flushed, and then he  _ heaved _ and Laurent found himself with his breath knocked out of him, looking up at the sky. Damen’s face came into view. He was smirking, “This is better,” he said. 

“No complaints from me,” Laurent said, rolling his hips under Damen purposefully. 

Damen frowned, tightening his hold on his wrists, and squeezing his thighs tightly around Laurent’s hips. Laurent couldn’t help but laugh. Akielons walked around in the nude, but any suggestion of public intimacy had him flinching. “Stop that,” he said. 

Laurent stopped laughing, but he closed his mouth with the teasing smile still on his face. “As Exalted commands,” he said, and relaxed under Damen. 

Damen was on top of him, reminiscent of many positions, on the battlefield, in bed, in a tucked away corner alcove. Laurent knew how he looked, flushed from exertion, his chest heaving, his yellow hair spread out under him. He knew Damen liked what he saw. His eyes had darkened with desire having Laurent soft and pliant under him. 

Damen was very warm, like a fire radiating heat. Laurent watched as Damen took in his looks, and closed his eyes. His arms trembled from holding himself up. “Damen?” Laurent said, cautiously. 

Damen’s eyes opened, and they were unfocused. He was sweating, breathing very heavy. “Laurent,” he gasped in a familiar tone, signs of recognition appearing on his face. Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed. 

Laurent caught him, and could feel Damen’s entire body shake uncontrollably, as if his body was possessed. “Damen!” Laurent shouted repeatedly, but there was no sign that Damen could hear him. His entire body was burning up, damp sweat all of his body. 

“Call for Paschal!” Laurent heard Nikandros yell in the background. 

Laurent could do nothing else but hold Damen in his arms until he stopped seizing. But after, Damen didn’t wake either. His heart was beating, his chest was rising, but  _ he would not wake up _ .

Later Laurent would recall Paschal arriving, and pulling Damen away. He would follow Damen on a makeshift stretcher to his quarters. He would wipe the sweat from Damen’s head and exchange the damp cloth for a cooler one. He stayed in the room, clutching Damen’s motionless hand until his fever broke. 

Paschal had no answer for him through the night. He frowned and took Damen’s pulse repeatedly. He examined him from head to toe and asked Nikandros numerous questions of his behavior. Finally he withdrew saying he had to look up something in his study. 

The door opened, and Laurent barely glanced at it. The footsteps were heavier than those of the physician. It was Nikandros. 

“Your majesty, you should retire,” Nikandros said. “I can keep watch.” 

“These are my quarters, are they not? When I am ready for rest, I will.” 

Nikandros sighed. He placed a letter before Laurent, “As you have stopped all correspondence at the door. This came from the horsemaster. He said it was for your eyes only.” 

Something about the curious nature of Nikandros’s voice pushed Laurent to open the letter. It was about the necropsy. His eyes skimmed it without much attention--he cared for the horse, but there was another mystery illness that currently plagued him. But as he read, his hands trembled. 

“Your majesty?” Nikandros asked cautiously. 

The doors swung open, and Paschal was talking to him. Of Damen’s symptoms and to confirm the suspicions that echoed the accusations written on that letter. Laurent thought back to Damen’s fever, his memory loss. He remembered Agema’s soft coat damp with sweat, Damen’s longtime steed backing away from him without recognition. 

“Nikandros,” Laurent began, and Nikandros stood at attention, noticing the edge of steel in Laurent’s voice. “Awake the troops and close the city gates. No one enters or leaves without my say so.”

Laurent and Damen had discussed this. How could they not when they set upon doing something monarchs have only dreamed of. They had committed the impossible, uniting two rival nations amidst a civil war. When there is change, what followed would be discord. 

“Have the captains from the border patrol report to me. Send out riders for any signs of suspicious activity. I don’t care if you have wake every person in Delpha.  _ Someone  _ has poisoned the King of Akielos. Leave no stone unturned.” 

Someone would be paying with their life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reblog on [tumblr](http://dragonmage27.tumblr.com/post/175589302823/every-illusion-in-between-pt-ii)!
> 
> Shout out to covertius bc I completely forgot about the scars, drag me


End file.
